And Then There Were Three
by Andie17
Summary: Andrea goes into labour and hours after the delivery of the baby, a vicious blow to the head leaves our herione with amnesia. Will she trust Spike enough the let him help? Sequel to And Then There Were Two.
1. Say What?

And Then There Were Three  
  
A/N: I'm a bad, bad person for starting this. I promised my self I wouldn't yet, but I didn't know what else to do. I just watched the series finale and I'm terribly depressed. This is my solution. And don't expect regular updates until I've finished at least one of my other fics, okay? -- Andie  
  
***** Chapter 1: Say What? *****  
  
"Your what just what?" April asked, blinking in shock. Andrea gestured in frustration toward her feet, which were covered in a clear viscous fluid.  
  
"Eew," Andrea groaned, cautiously lifting her foot. "These shoes are Gucci. Son of a -"  
  
"Andie, we have to get you to a hospital, post haste," April said quickly. Her cousin rolled her eyes at her.  
  
"Oh, my God. What if there's something wrong? I'm not even seven months along yet. Oh, my God." Andrea looked up and frantically scanned the crowd for her husband. April helped her hobble over to Spike, who was currently chatting up a reporter.  
  
"Wonder Bra. Time to go," April said, cocking her eyebrows, hoping he'd get the message. Spike frowned and turned to the man he was speaking with.  
  
"Excuse me," he said politely. When they were out of hearing range, he turned to Andrea. "What's the matter, love?"  
  
"I'm in labor," she said bluntly. She watched his deep blue eyes widen considerably in shock, his expression turn to extreme concern.  
  
"Bloody hell. Why didn't you tell me?" He pushed her toward the front door, grabbing her coat off the rack.  
  
"What the hell was I just doing?" Andrea asked. "April, get Ben and the Scoobies. Meet us at the hospital, please."  
  
"Check."  
  
"Labor?" Spike mumbled. "Only seven months. . .Can't be right. . ." As she slid into the front seat of her convertible, a contraction hit. She cried out and Spike paled noticeably. "All right, pet?" he asked as he started the car, smoothing her blonde hair away from her face. She glared at him.  
  
"Do I look all right?" He winced and sped toward Sunnydale General. After a few tense moments of silence, he spoke again.  
  
"Are you sure you're in labor? 'Cause there's lots of women who have pains early in the third trimester. I think." Andrea's jaw clenched.  
  
"No, I'm not sure. Why don't you ask the disgusting goop on our brand new rug, hmm?" She knew she was being a bitch, but, really, the man was being such a dick. There was a tiny person just itching to explode out of her stomach and he was asking if she was sure. 'I'll give you sure,' she thought menacingly.  
  
They reached the hospital in record time, and Spike ushered her quickly into the emergency room.  
  
"My wife's in labor," he told the receptionist.  
  
"Think?" Andrea sarcastically commented. Spike rolled his eyes and gently pushed her in the direction of an empty room. He took some forms from the woman behind the desk and a doctor appeared at her side as she was sliding onto the bed.  
  
"How far along are you?" he asked, setting up an ultrasound machine. He was a balding man, with dark hair and bright eyes. He seemed friendly enough, but Andrea was hardly in an amiable mood.  
  
"Twenty-six weeks," she answered as he draped a paper sheet over her knees, lifted her dress and squirted some cold goop onto her distended stomach. He frowned.  
  
"Really? And your water broke already? What were you doing?"  
  
"Standing there," Andrea said, clearly growing impatient very quickly. "Now make it stop, Dr. . ."  
  
"Peters. And I don't know if I can." He lightly pressed the ultrasound scanner to the goopy area of her abdomen and moved it around, gazing at a screen. "The baby seems to be in delivery position. Remarkable. . ." He trailed off.  
  
"What? What's so sodding remarkable?" Spike asked, appearing in the doorway. Telltale signs of stress were appearing in the form of deep lines around his eyes.  
  
"The fetus is only twenty-six weeks along, yet it seems to be almost completely developed. Like that of a fetus eight weeks older. . . I've never seen anything like it."  
  
"It wasn't remarkable last week, when we had a check up. Was it, Spike?" Andrea sounded so much like a lost child that he couldn't stop himself from moving to her bedside and taking his wife's hand protectively.  
  
"No, babe."  
  
"Well, from what I can tell, this baby's ready to be born. Let me just see how dilated you are . . ." After a quick peek under the sheet, Dr. Peters removed his rubber gloves. "How long have you been in labor?" he asked.  
  
"I don't know. I've been having back pains all day, but . . ."  
  
"All bleeding day? Why didn't you say something?" The woman was so. . . grrrrr. But that was part of why he loved her.  
  
"I didn't think it meant anything. I'm only six and a half months along. I thought I might have spelt funny last night." Despite the situation, Spike grinned. They hadn't been doing a lot of sleeping last night. . .  
  
"Well, Mrs. Sinclair, it seems that you're almost completely dilated. You should be ready to deliver within the hour." Andrea and Spike gaped at their doctor.  
  
"What?" 


	2. Attempted Murder

A/N: Yes, I realize that the water breaking is usually the first thing to happen, but chalk it up to the stubborn water of a Slayer not feeling like breaking.  
  
***** Chapter 2: Attempted Murder *****  
  
"How's she doing?" Ben asked Spike, as the Scoobies joined him outside Andrea's hospital room.  
  
"Almost ready. She's at nine centimeters," he said, absently running his hand through his bleached curls. Xander stuck his head through the door and called to Andrea.  
  
"Wow, nine centimeters, Andie. Way to dilate!"  
  
"God, you're such a moron!" was the only reply heard. Buffy grinned.  
  
"Oh, yeah. She's in labor alright." Dr. Peters exited the room.  
  
"Mrs. Sinclair is a little upset because we can't give her any drugs," he explained calmly. "Why don't you guys take her some more ice chips? I'm sure she'll be grateful." Spike nodded and took the paper cup of ice from a nearby nurse, following the gang into Andrea's hospital room.  
  
His wife was a little bit pale and her blonde strands were damp at the hairline. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back on the pillow. She whimpered in greeting. Her mouth opened slightly when she felt a cool chip of ice on her lips. Spike slid the chip into her mouth.  
  
"Thanks," she said around the bit of ice. "Shit. . .," she cursed as another contraction swamped her, pain muddling her mind. She concentrated on deep, even breathing until it passed. "Oh, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts."  
  
"I know, pet, I know," Spike soothed, smoothing her hair back.  
  
"This is your fault," she accused, glaring up at him. "Kindly refrain from touching me if you wish to have full function of all your limbs." He winced and slowly pulled his hand away from her. Willow suppressed a laugh.  
  
"Didn't I tell you, Andie?" April said, grinning. Andrea turned her murderous gaze to her cousin.  
  
"Bite . . .my. . .ass . . ." She emphasized each word. April ignored her.  
  
"Wanna see what I brought?"  
  
"No." Despite the denial, April brought forth the hand she'd been holding behind her back. A video camera. Andrea groaned.  
  
"Smile for the camera, Andie."  
  
"I'm going to kill you." Another contraction hit then, the force of it causing Andrea to use words she hadn't used since. . .well, ever.  
  
"Is that normal?" Dawn said cautiously. Buffy nodded. "I thought so, but what's a - "  
  
"Dawn, if you repeat that word, I will be forced to ground you for life."  
  
"Hello again, Andrea," Dr. Peters said, squeezing into the room, chart in hand. "Just here to check on your dilation. If you please," he gestured to her legs. She hesitated.  
  
"Oh, right. We'll be going," Willow said, quickly ushering everyone out of the room. Except April.  
  
"No way. I gotta tape this for the baby." She held up the camera. Andrea glared for a moment before reaching to the bedside table and chucking her cup of ice chips at her cousin. "Okay, fine. I'm going." Andrea slowly lifted her legs and Dr. Peters looked under the paper sheet.  
  
"Hmmm. Well, we should be moving you to delivery now."  
  
"Oh, joy," she muttered unenthusiastically. The doctor just smiled and stood. A nurse appeared at this side and together, they moved Andrea onto a gurney. As they were wheeling her past through the waiting room, the Scoobies smiled and waved, April quickly following. "Get away from me. . .," Andrea whined.  
  
"Spike," Ben called. He stopped, allowing Andrea to be wheeled into the delivery room a few feet away. "I want you to know that. . .I'm really happy for you and Andie. And of all the guys she could have married, I'm glad it was you."  
  
"Thanks, mate," Spike said sincerely.  
  
"I mean, don't get me wrong. I had some serious doubts about a guy named Spike, but you're, like. . .way better than James."  
  
"That makes me feel so. . .happy," he assured sarcastically. Ben laughed.  
  
"Go." With a hearty shove in the direction of Ben's sister, Spike swung the doors to the delivery room open, greeted by the sight of April standing a few feet away from Andrea, video camera pointed straight at her.  
  
"You're just in time," Dr. Peters said. "We're about to start pushing."  
  
"Like hell!" argued Andrea haphazardly. "I'm the one who's doing all the work. You just stand there and look pretty."  
  
"Andrea, calm down." Spike said, smoothing her hair back. She whimpered.  
  
"It hurts, Spike."  
  
"Shh. I know." He dropped a supportive kiss on her forehead.  
  
"Okay, we're going to push on three. One. . ." Spike made the mistake of gripping Andrea's hand. "Two. . .Three. . ." Andrea bore down, moaning, eyes squeezed shut, clutching Spike's hand with full Slayer strength. Spike ground his teeth together until Andrea eased off and opened her eyes, panting from effort. "Push again, Andrea." She pushed.  
  
"Oh, God," she groaned.  
  
"Push, Andrea," urged Dr. Peters.  
  
"Fuck you, I am pushing!" Spike cried out from the pain shooting up his arm, almost wishing he could revert to vampirism. Pain was easier to deal with when you're dead.  
  
"Jesus, Andrea." Her eyes snapped open and she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close.  
  
"You know nothing about pain, Spike. Don't even get me started." He winced.  
  
"Okay."  
  
"One more good push should do it," said the nurse. Andrea shook her head.  
  
"No. Don't make me do it. It's probably happier up there. It's better off in my birth canal." Despite the pain from what he was sure were a couple broken fingers, Spike grinned.  
  
"Are you saying you're too weak, pet? Don't be a wimp." His plan backfired. She viciously yanked on his shirt, pulling him down, causing him to sharply bang his head on the bar on the side of her bed. "Bloody hell!"  
  
"Push, Andrea." She grunted in response, concentrating on forcing her child out of her body.  
  
"Mom was right," she cried. "Sex is bad." Spike took on a horrified look, his free hand pressed to his head.  
  
" 'old on just one sodding second. Let's not say things we can't take back. . ."  
  
A shrill cry pierced the air.  
  
"Congratulations! It's a girl!" The nurse quickly wrapped the crying infant in a snuggly blanket and placed her in the arms of her flushed mother, next to her bleeding father.  
  
"Hi, baby," Andrea cooed, pain forgotten. "You tried to kill me, didn't you?" 


	3. Trouble in Paradise

***** Chapter 3: Trouble in Paradise *****  
  
"May I present to you, Baby Girl Sinclair," Spike said proudly, holding his daughter in his arms.  
  
"Oh, she's so cute," Dawn cooed, scrunching up her nose to make faces at the baby.  
  
"You haven't thought of a name yet?" Buffy asked.  
  
"We were supposed to have two more months to pick. Not my fault she's an impatient little bugger. Gets that from 'er mum." Ben nodded enthusiastically.  
  
"And she's healthy?" Giles asked, concerned. He'd come to care for Andrea and her previously unborn child almost as much as he did Buffy. Spike grinned, swollen with pride.  
  
"She's perfect."  
  
"Can we see Andrea?" He nodded and led them all into the hospital room.  
  
She smiled weakly at her friends. She was glad for all the support. Some of her colour had returned and her hazel eyes once again had a devilish twinkle. She reached out her arms and took the baby from Spike, then scooted over so he could join her on the bed.  
  
"So what do you guys think we should name her?" she asked.  
  
"Name her Monday," Dawn said. When everyone frowned at her, she explained. "Then you can name all your other kids Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Bob." Spike laughed, but Andrea's eyes grew wide.  
  
"No way. If Spike wants more kids, he can get himself pregnant. I'm not going through that again."  
  
"That's what they all say," April taunted from behind the camera.  
  
"Shouldn't you be calling Cody?" Willow suggested.  
  
"Oh, my God!" April tore out of the room, in search of the nearest pay phone.  
  
"Thank you," Andrea breathed. "I love her and all, but the camera's starting to piss me off." Xander happened to glance toward Spike's right hand, which he'd kept in his pocket in the waiting room.  
  
"What the hell happened, man?" Two of Spike's fingers were in splints.  
  
"That's what he gets for knocking me up," was the only explanation offered.  
  
"Look, honey, the tiny human is cute," Anya said, smiling up at Xander. She surprisingly hadn't said anything earlier.  
  
"Yeah, she is," Tara agreed, grinning sentimentally and grasping Willow's hand.  
  
"Let's have a baby, Xander," Anya requested. Andrea grinned in anticipation of his reaction.  
  
"But. . .but. . .but. . .but we're not even. . .married yet," he stammered nervously. She could almost see the sweat forming on his palms.  
  
"Any more name suggestions?" Spike pressed.  
  
"Spike Junior," Ben said.  
  
"It's a girl," Andrea reminded slowly.  
  
"Benjamina."  
  
"Two words: God. . .no." Uncle Ben pouted childishly.  
  
"What about Tabatha?" Buffy suggested. Andrea thought that one over.  
  
"Maybe."  
  
"Torsten," Xander said.  
  
"Are you trying to get my daughter beat up?" Spike asked, absently rubbing Andrea's shoulder.  
  
"Hey, found a name yet?" April said, returning with camera in place.  
  
"Not yet."  
  
"Cody says Alyssa." Andrea was taken aback, mostly because she liked it.  
  
"Alyssa what?"  
  
"Loren." That was from Anya.  
  
"I like it," Spike said.  
  
"Me, too," Andrea admitted. "Alyssa Loren Sinclair."  
  
* * *  
  
"God, I hate hospitals," Andrea said, pushing the new baby-filled stroller out of the hospital.  
  
Everyone else had gone home, leaving Spike and Andrea to themselves. Evidently, she still hadn't forgiven him for making her go through labor and delivery.  
  
"Now we're going to go home, you're going to flop onto the bed and wait for me to make you a luxurious dinner."  
  
"No sex."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Dr. Peters said I had to come back in two months to see if I'd healed." He paled. Two months was a very long time. They hadn't gone two months without sex since. . . They had never gone two months without sex.  
  
"But. . .but you're a fast healer."  
  
"That's what I said. He said come back in two weeks and we'll see." He looked visibly relieved.  
  
"Thank God." Andrea smiled softly.  
  
The sun had set about an hour before, but the moon provided enough light to see to make it to the car.  
  
"Hey, did Ben tell you where Megan went?"  
  
"Yeah, said she buggered off jus' before they left for the hospital."  
  
"Don't I feel loved," she muttered sarcastically.  
  
"Aw, kitten. I love you," he said, bracing her against the passenger side door of the sleek, black car.  
  
"Love you too." She let go of the stroller with one hand, allowing her fingers to travel lightly up his muscled arm to entwine in his silky hair. He pressed his lips against hers, parting them easily with his tongue. Andrea moaned softly. After five months of marriage, the passion between them still flared at the faintest touch. She heard a low growl and it took her a moment to realize it hadn't come from Spike. 


	4. Paradise Lost

***** Chapter 4: Paradise Lost *****  
  
A group of vampires had sneaked up behind them when they were. . .otherwise occupied. The first one snarled.  
  
"Give us the baby and we'll spare your lives," he said.  
  
"Ali? Why?"  
  
"The child has power. It has been foretold." He approached Andrea. She shook her head.  
  
"Sorry, man. You're going to have to foretell someone else's baby. There's no way I'm giving her up after what I just went through."  
  
The four other vampires had surrounded them by that point, and Andrea cursed herself for her carelessness. She squeezed Spike's hand, hoping he's get the message. Take Ali and run. He obviously understood because he vehemently shook his head. "No."  
  
"Spike, you're human. No super-strength. You're useless." She grinned when he took on an offended look. "Go. I'll distract them." He rolled his eyes, gave her a quick peck on the lips and scooped up his daughter. A snarling vamp approached him and he threw a hard punch, knocking the vamp off his feet, before rushing back into the hospital, Ali in his arms.  
  
Andrea dropped to the ground, kicking a vampire's feet out from under him. She quickly reached for her purse, which had fallen to the ground at some point during her little smooch-fest with Spike. She whipped out a stake and plunged it into the vamp's chest. Another one grabbed her from behind, wrapping his cold arm around her waist. She used the leverage to her advantage and delivered a powerful kick to the jaw of Vamp #3. Then she tossed her head back and heard a satisfying crack, followed by a howl of pain. The hands holding her quickly disappeared and she sidestepped, staking the vamp directly behind her.  
  
She saw Spike appear from the hospital to join her, and sighed exasperatedly.  
  
Stubborn jerk.  
  
He whipped a stake out of his duster pocket and rushed the vamp he had punched earlier. He was just bringing down the stake when he noticed Andrea was in trouble. The vampire beneath him turned to dust as she fended off the punches of a vampire. She was too busy with the one in front of her and hadn't noticed the one creeping up behind her, armed with a rather large rock. He was too far away to get there in time.  
  
"Andrea, behind you!" he yelled. She whirled just as the vamp brought the rock crashing down to her skull.  
  
* * *  
  
"She's very lucky you yelled, Mr. Sinclair. If you hadn't, she would have been hit directly in the back of the head. With the exception of the stitches she has, all she should need is some pain medication," she heard faintly. Gradually, the noises grew louder as Andrea came fully awake. "Well, hello, Mrs. Sinclair," said a smiling woman with curly red hair. "I'm Dr. Reynolds, your neurologist. I'm glad you're awake. You CAT scans just came back and everything seems to be in order." Andrea frowned.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"Sunnydale General."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You were attacked by a gang on PCP. You don't remember?" Dr. Reynolds whipped out a clipboard and made some notes. A handsome man rushed to her bedside, frowning. He took her hand and rubbed her knuckles comfortingly with his thumb. She looked at him as if he had spontaneously sprouted an extra eye on top of his head.  
  
"Who are you and what is wrong with your hair?" Andrea questioned slowly. He inhaled a breath deeply and glanced up at the doctor and glanced up at the doctor. She approached the bed.  
  
"What is your name?" she asked.  
  
"Uh. . .Mrs. Sinclair?" Andrea guessed hopefully. Dr. Reynolds smiled.  
  
"You're first name." She hesitated.  
  
"Mrs.?"  
  
"What's wrong with her?" Spike asked softly, his brow wrinkling in concern.  
  
"Well, it seems to me that she has amnesia." She pulled a penlight out of her pocket and shone it at Andrea's pupil. Then she held up a finger. "Follow my finger." When the small test was complete, she sighed. "Well, it's not that serious. She should get her memory back -"  
  
"Not that serious? I have no clue who I am and you're telling me it's not that serious? Are you on acid? And stop talking about me like I'm not here." Spike smiled slightly, remembering another time when she'd said that. Dr. Reynolds shot her a silencing glance.  
  
"As I was saying, I can't say for sure when you'll get your memory back, but it will come back suddenly, at a time when you won't be expecting it. Don't try to force yourself to remember. It will only put more stress on your mind." Andrea nodded.  
  
"One more question . . .for now. Who are you?" she asked Spike.  
  
"I'm your husband." Surprise flickered across her face, but it was quickly covered with indifference. She didn't even know why she was surprised. Her name was Mrs. Sinclair.  
  
"My what. . .?" Her voice rose considerably, and her body tensed. "M- m-married?" she stuttered. "How long?"  
  
"Five months," Spike answered. She didn't remember anything. Not him. Not the marriage. Not their daughter. "Is there a phone somewhere?" he asked the doctor slowly.  
  
"In the waiting room."  
  
"I'll be back, love," he told Andrea, dropping her hand as he stood. As he reached the door, she called to him. He stopped, but didn't turn.  
  
"You never told me my name."  
  
"Andrea. Your name is Andrea."  
  
A/N: Okay, points to anybody who can tell me why the end of this chappy looks familiar! Hahaha. And I'm getting a 'we-don't-love-you-any-more' vibe from you people seeing as how this is the FOURTH CHAPTER and I have exactly NO REVIEWS!!! I'm going crazy and may have to shoot up a McDonald's. Okay, little extreme, but you get my point. *hold's gun to Ronald McDonald's head * Ronald's next. . . 


	5. There's No Place Like Home

***** Chapter 5: There's No Place Like Home *****  
  
"Come on, love," Spike said, helping her out of the hospital bed. "I just talked to April -" At her confused look, he explained. "That's your cousin. She told me just to get you home and then we could make you as comfortable as possible." She eyed him suspiciously, and he did his best to keep his expression light and cheerful.  
  
"You're upset," Andrea said softly. Damn. For not having a clue who he was, she was still way too insightful for her own good. He covered his reaction by grabbing her coat off a nearby chair and assisting her into it.  
  
"Nonsense, pet. Let's get you and Ali home now and I'll get you some ice cream." He lightly pressed against the small of her back, forcing her into the hallway.  
  
"You're upset," she repeated. He sighed and turned to face her.  
  
"Can we talk about this in the car, please?"  
  
"No, I want to talk about this now," she demanded, her voice becoming more confident as she folded her arms across her chest.  
  
He rolled his eyes. People were starting to stare. He roughly grabbed her by the upper arm and yanked her out the door of the hospital, briefly leaving her alone outside when he went back into the hospital, returning with a stroller, complete with newborn baby.  
  
"Yes, I am upset," he admitted, moving to a black Firebird convertible. She followed him, then eyed the car appreciatively for a moment before concentrating on what he was saying. He sure was cute. . .Man, she could pick 'em. He looked her right in the eyes, his confused emotions making her a bit nervous as they whirled in his intense blue gaze. "My wife has lost her memory. You don't have a clue who I am, who your family is. You don't remember anything of what we've been through. Not how we met, not the first time we kissed, nothing." His voice was packed full of different emotions. So many that she couldn't tell one from another. "You don't remember our baby." The last was said almost pleadingly, like by some miracle, when he said it, it might trigger a memory. Her hazel eyes widened.  
  
"Our what?" He gestured toward the stroller and baby and for the first time, she actually realized that they had something to do with her. Her baby. Her stroller, her car, her husband, her baby.  
  
"This is Ali. You gave birth to her today. You and me and Ali. We're a family." She looked down at the sleeping child again. After a pregnant silence, he spoke again. "Get in the car."  
  
* * *  
  
"This is where we live?" Andrea asked hesitantly as she got out of the car, staring up at the two storey, Victorian-looking house on Wilson Ave.  
  
" 'S right, pet. You didn't always live here. When you moved to Sunnydale, you lived in a smaller house a few blocks away." He took Ali out of the car and she followed him up a stylish sidewalk to the front door.  
  
"Sunnydale. . ." she repeated. "United States?" He nodded, unlocking the door.  
  
"Yeah. California. But you're Canadian." Spike swung the door open, and she stepped slowly inside.  
  
The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. The floors were covered in plush, forest green carpeting, the walls a bluey green colour that somehow complemented the carpet. A stunning maple staircase wound up the wall to the second floor, matching doorframes lining the openings to other rooms.  
  
"Wow. . ." She followed him into the kitchen, where he set the baby and car seat on a casual table. When he didn't say anything, she resumed questioning him. "Why haven't you told me your first name?" He sighed, but didn't look at her, instead concentrating on simple tasks, in this case, getting himself a beer.  
  
"The doc told me not to overload your mind. It would put too much pressure on you."  
  
"Tell me." He paused.  
  
"William. But nobody calls me that. It's Spike."  
  
"What kind of a name is Spike?" He snorted. Trust her to have a reaction like that when she had amnesia.  
  
"Long story. Most of which you won't believe just now, so I figure I'd better wait for your loving cousin to show up." He took a swig from his beer. "So how are you holding up?" He motioned for her to sit down and she obeyed. Before answering, she turned the car seat toward her so she had an unobstructed view of her daughter. She was beautiful, with a light dusting of curly blonde hair.  
  
"I'm still. . .adjusting. So far, all I know about me is that my name is Andrea, I live in California in a beautiful house, I used to live somewhere else, I'm originally from Canada, I have a husband named after an inanimate object, a newborn baby that sleeps a lot and a loving cousin named April. That's what you've told me. And for some reason, I'm having trouble completely trusting you." He smiled sardonically.  
  
"Well, at least you're honest about it."  
  
"And I don't feel like a wife and mother," she admitted. Her manner had turned from distrustful to tentative. Her tone tugged at something inside of him.  
  
"Give it time, kitten. Give it time."  
  
"When did we get married?" Her question was so out of the blue that he was taken aback.  
  
"Around five months." She was quiet for a moment. Then:  
  
"Did you marry me because you got me pregnant?" He grinned.  
  
"I proposed before you told me you were pregnant."  
  
"How do I know that we're actually married? And that she's my baby? How do I know that anything you say is true?" Her distrustful tone was back in place as quickly as it had gone. He thought for a moment.  
  
"We had both events video taped."  
  
"Really? Can I see them?"  
  
"Sure, I don't see why not. Go get set up in the living room and I'll get you a beer."  
  
"I drink beer?"  
  
"Yeah." With a shrug, she got up and went to the entrance to the kitchen, then paused and looked back at him. It took him a few minutes to figure out why she'd stopped. "Down the hall, last door on the left." 


End file.
